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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22897189">The Way It's Supposed to Be</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula'>authoressnebula (authoressjean)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Season/Series 01, Pre-Series, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:07:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22897189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Series; Sam is 18, Dean is 22.</p>
<p>After a typical fight, things take a non-typical turn into grief and loss.</p>
<p>Re-posted from LiveJournal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Way It's Supposed to Be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/562525">Hold On - Manip</a> by mkitty3.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted in LiveJournal years ago as a gift for mkitty3, based on one of her images. Sometimes the writer inspires an artist; sometimes the artist inspires a writer. I've included a link to the original manip that inspired the fic but while my fic is gen, most of her beautiful artwork leans towards Wincest, so be aware if you start wandering.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started the way it always did.</p>
<p>Sam began to talk about a life different than that of hunting. John stepped in and argued that hunting <em>was</em> their life, and to get the hell over any other life. Sam would retaliate with his question of why not, and that there was a better life out there for them, for <em>him</em>, and then the rest would fall into angry shouts until one of them stalked outside.</p>
<p>And in the middle would be Dean, trying desperately to play mediator. Most of the time, it just didn't work.</p>
<p>This time, it was John who walked out (stormed out, if they were going to be honest here), slamming the door hard behind him. The Impala roared away a few minutes later, and Dean knew that when their dad came back, he'd be plastered. That was the way it always went.</p>
<p>Then Sam moved towards the door, and the shift in what normally happened had Dean frowning. “Where you going?” Dean couldn't help but ask.</p>
<p>“Out,” Sam said tersely, grabbing his green coat and shoving his arms through the sleeves. “I need air.”</p>
<p>“You've got air,” Dean said. He crossed his arms when Sam turned back towards him. “He's gone.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I need air from you too,” Sam remarked, and Dean was glaring even while the comment dug into his being and burned.</p>
<p>“What the hell's that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>“Would it kill you to actually take my side for once, Dean?” Sam said, shaking his head. “I mean, Dad's blasting me apart, and you don't even seem to give a damn.”</p>
<p>“I give a damn,” Dean interjected angrily, but Sam shook his head.</p>
<p>“Then say something, Dean. Speak up and help me out a little!”</p>
<p>“Help you out? You're trying to rip the family apart, and you want me to help you out?”</p>
<p>“Rip the...?!”</p>
<p>“We need you here, Sam, not off at college!”</p>
<p>“Excuse me for having dreams,” Sam snapped. “Just because you let Dad trample all over yours doesn't mean I'm willing to let him do it to mine.”</p>
<p>Dean stared at him in shock. “<em>Excuse</em> me?”</p>
<p>“You heard me,” Sam said, glaring down at Dean. It still sucked that whenever Sam looked at Dean, he had to look down now; he was 18 and still shooting up like a weed. Trying to prove to himself and the world that he was a grown man now.</p>
<p>Dean shook his head incredulously. “Fine, then go. Go out and get some air, go off to college, and while you're at it, go to hell.”</p>
<p>“Screw you, Dean,” Sam hissed, slamming the door behind him.</p>
<p>Dean stared at the door for a minute, then flopped onto the chair in the small living room they had, glaring holes in the wall. The place wasn't much; it belonged to a friend of their dad's. John had let it slip that they'd be nearby for a job that would take a little longer than most to sort out, and his friend had offered. A little house near the main street, but it was good enough for the Winchesters. It even had a second story, with two bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. Meant that both boys got their own space.</p>
<p>Dean hated it.</p>
<p>Lately, Sam had been pushing for his own space, needing to get away, needing to stand alone. Dean remembered being 18; not sure of where you stood in the world, not sure where you stood as far as Dad was concerned, and the realization that you were a recognized age now, a man. He'd wanted his own space then, had pushed Sam away time and time again. His little brother, still only 14 and not nearly old enough to understand what being an adult meant.</p>
<p>This side of it, though, Dean really didn't like it. He was the one being pushed away now, and he remembered Sam walking away in disappointment or despair. When playing tag and kickball had been shoved aside, when Dean had firmly said no to any hugging or physical emotions of any type.</p>
<p>Dean really couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged his brother.</p>
<p>He glanced at the clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed. He heaved a sigh and reached for the portable phone. The idiot needed to be back before Dad was, and that was probably going to be around midnight or so. Dean sure as hell didn't want to get chewed out for not knowing where his brother was when John came back before Sam did.</p>
<p>A moment later, and the tinny ringtone of Sam's cell phone could be heard from upstairs. Dean growled low in his throat and slammed the phone down on the table. Now he was <em>really</em> pissed. First Sam went off on him because, heaven forbid, Dean wanted a <em>family</em>, and then he forgot his cell phone.</p>
<p>The kid was going down.</p>
<p>Once outside with his jacket on, Dean inhaled and let his breath out to test. It was barely visible, and he could feel the moisture in the air. Near Christmas, but not a single fleck of snow in sight. It'd probably rain tonight.</p>
<p>Figured.</p>
<p>The bar was to the right, and Dean knew Sam wouldn't have gone that way. The bar was the end of the town, where John had more than likely gone; everything else was towards the left. Everything normal and bright and happy, just like Sam wanted it.</p>
<p>Dean just didn't get the attraction. All he needed was Sam and their dad. That was it. That was normal for him. That was all he could ever want and need. Sam just needed to understand that, and get the stupid, grandiose dreams out of his off in the clouds head. What the hell would the kid do at college, anyways? Study medicine or law? The way he argued, he'd probably be a damn good lawyer.</p>
<p>Didn't family matter, though? At all?</p>
<p>He couldn't have been walking for more than a few minutes when sirens turned the corner behind him and flew past him. Dean watched them for a moment, forcing the twisted feeling in his gut to subside. He <em>hated</em> that he felt that way whenever an ambulance cried out. It was just years of hunting, that was it. Nothing more than that.</p>
<p>He started into a quick jog, though. Never hurt.</p>
<p>It was a full out run by the time he reached the accident. A huge truck had slid out of control at the intersection, clipping the front of another car and shoving it onto the sidewalk. That was where the paramedics were focusing their attention, and when they moved, Dean saw why.</p>
<p>A body was laying in a bloody pool on the sidewalk. Must've been walking and gotten hit.</p>
<p>Every nerve in Dean's body froze, and he forgot how to breathe for a minute. How far ahead of him had Sam been? Fifteen, twenty minutes?</p>
<p>No. It wasn't Sam. Dean was being paranoid, that was all.</p>
<p>Then the paramedics were lifting the body onto a stretcher, moving quickly towards the ambulance, and Dean didn't even remember what breathing was.</p>
<p>A man.</p>
<p>Dark hair.</p>
<p>Tall.</p>
<p>Green jacket.</p>
<p>Breathing and nerves and everything else slammed into Dean so fast he stepped forward before he knew what he was doing, and then he was running hard enough to almost trip over his own feet. A police officer stopped him before he could get into the zone of the accident. “Sir, I'm afraid you can't come any closer.”</p>
<p>“That man,” Dean managed, swallowing hard. “Th-That man, have you guys ID'd him yet?”</p>
<p>“The kid?” the cop said, and Dean's stomach twisted dangerously inside of him. “I don't think so, no. He was just walking along when the accident happened. You know him?”</p>
<p>“I...” And Dean couldn't talk anymore. The ambulance was pulling out, and Dean instinctively moved with it. The sirens came on, loud and mournful in the night, and he fought the urge to lose what he'd had for dinner.</p>
<p>He was running full throttle now, chasing after the ambulance. The hospital wasn't far; not in a town like this. He felt like if he lost sight of the ambulance, though, he'd lose Sam.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh god Sammy I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it. Please be okay. Please, God, don't take my little brother. Please. I need him. I need him so much. Please.</em>
</p>
<p>The ambulance was quietly pulling into the back when Dean reached the doors, panting and trying to breathe through the bands of fear that were wrapped tightly around his chest. He flew through the doors, startling the nurse at the front desk. “S'cuse me,” he said breathlessly, staggering over to her. “The...the guy they just brought in. Is he...okay?”</p>
<p>“The young man?” she asked, biting her lip. “I haven't heard anything. I think they're back there right now. If you want to wait-”</p>
<p>Voices down the hallway made Dean turn, and he watched as two policemen approached a doctor emerging from one of the rooms. They spoke in low tones, too low for Dean to hear, but when the doctor shook his head and looked down, Dean still heard the message, loud and clear.</p>
<p>The kid hadn't made it.</p>
<p>“Sir?” the nurse called, but her voice faded out into white noise. It buzzed through his head, the only noises getting through his own thoughts.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam's dead. Sam's dead. Sammy's dead. My Sammy. He's gone. He's not coming back. Sammy's gone. Sammy's gone and not coming back.</em>
</p>
<p>He made it outside then stood for a long moment by the doors. Rain began to trickle from the sky, gently covering the land around him. He didn't notice. He didn't care.</p>
<p>His Sam, his Sammy, was gone.</p>
<p>
  <em>I told him to go and he went. I told him to go to hell-</em>
</p>
<p>Dean fell to his knees and heaved.</p>
<p>When he started to shake, he pushed himself to his feet and told them to move towards the house. Not home; wherever they stayed was never home. Not even the car was really home, though they'd been in it long enough for the title to fit.</p>
<p>Home was where Sam was.</p>
<p>The walk back was made in a daze. Rain trickled down the back of his neck and dampened his hair. He finally made it back to the house and was amazed he hadn't gotten into an accident himself. The key was pulled out with shaking hands and the door pushed open with a quiet creak, pushed closed with not even so much as a sound.</p>
<p>Dean stood in the entry way for a moment, staring blankly at the room in front of him. If he hadn't encouraged him to leave. If he hadn't fought with him. If he'd taken Sam's side for once instead of trying to play mediator to something that would never know peace. If-</p>
<p>“Dean?”</p>
<p>Dean slowly slid his gaze over towards the stairs, where Sam was coming down. “I was about to go out and look,” Sam said. He frowned, concerned, when Dean simply stood there. “I've been calling you for the past half hour. You left your cell phone by your bed,” he said, before giving a sheepish grin. “It's, uh, what I came back for. I almost made it to the first light a few blocks down when I realized it wasn't on me. I came back, but...you were gone by that point. I figured you needed air, but when I tried calling you and your phone was still here, I got worried. I was just gonna go look for you, and could you say <em>something</em>? Anything? You're starting to worry me here, man.”</p>
<p>“Sammy?” Dean managed, voice dry and hoarse from hurling and running and panicking. <em>Not dead. He's not dead.</em></p>
<p>Sam stepped away from the stairs, his frown deepening. “Yeah, Dean. Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something. Which, okay, could've happened considering our job, but-”</p>
<p>Dean had taken a step forward, then another, and then all the other steps were combined into a long run that ended with him clutching at Sam, pulling him close. “You're okay,” he whispered, tears burning in his eyes.</p>
<p>Hands came up around him, tentatively holding him. “Yeah, Dean, I'm okay. Are <em>you</em> okay?”</p>
<p>Whatever Dean had been about to say was lost in the sob he let out. His legs gave out beneath him, and he slid towards the floor, clutching at Sam as he went down.</p>
<p>He didn't make it any farther beyond Sam's chest when he felt strong arms wrap around him, no longer hesitant with their grasp. Dean gasped as he continued to cry, turning his face in towards Sam to hide the tears. Big brother still had a reputation to hold up, after all, and he was still a big brother, he hadn't lost his baby brother, and knowing that sent more tears down his face.</p>
<p>Sam pulled him in closer instead of letting him go, big hands grasping him firmly yet gently, and Dean tightened his grip on Sam's green jacket. No blood stains, not torn up from being hit.</p>
<p>He was buying Sam a new jacket. Something lighter, something more easily recognizable.</p>
<p>He was full out sobbing now, big heaving breaths of tears and grief he couldn't reign in. Dean pressed his face into his hand still clutching at Sam, hoping to try and muffle them, to try and stop, but he couldn't.</p>
<p>“I'm right here,” Sam said, resting his cheek on the top of Dean's still wet hair. “I'm not going anywhere, I swear. I'm okay, Dean. Shhh, I'm okay. You're okay, I prom-”</p>
<p>“I didn't mean it,” Dean burst out. “Oh god Sammy, I didn't mean it-”</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, shhh, I know, Dean,” Sam said softly, soothing him like he was a kid, and Dean couldn't find it inside of himself to care. “I didn't mean it either. It's gonna be okay, okay? I promise, Dean.”</p>
<p>“Don't go,” Dean said, half-gasp, half-whimper. “Please don't go.”</p>
<p>“I won't,” Sam said, quietly and suddenly, and Dean collapsed fully against him, let Sam take all of his weight. “I won't go.”</p>
<p>When Dean could stand on his own, Sam wasted no time in helping him up the stairs, arms still firmly wrapped around Dean. It was almost as if <em>he</em> were the one afraid the other would go if he stopped holding on. Dean didn't care; he still had a death grip on Sam's cruddy, hateful green jacket.</p>
<p>Dean was going to <em>burn</em> the damn thing after tonight.</p>
<p>Sam led Dean towards his bed, got him seated and helped him take his shoes and jacket off. “Let me go get a towel to dry you off, okay?” Sam said, removing the damnable jacket and tossing it somewhere, and Dean nodded. Sam had a worried look on his face that Dean knew wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. The last time Dean had lost it so badly, he'd been six and Sammy two, and all he'd wanted for Christmas was his mom back.</p>
<p>As soon as Sam stepped away, though, Dean made a strangled noise and reached for him. “Don't go, please? Just don't go, don't go, don't <em>go</em>-”</p>
<p>“Not going anywhere, then,” Sam said, immediately stepping back to Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother's waist and pulled him in even closer, burying his face in Sam's chest, right up against a beating and healthy heartbeat. “Dean,” Sam's voice came out, hesitantly, “what exactly happened ton-”</p>
<p>“Don't go there,” Dean begged. “<em>Please</em> don't go there right now, Sammy. I'll tell you tomorrow, I promise. Just...just please...”</p>
<p>After a moment, Sam said softly, “Okay. Tomorrow then. Right now, though, we need to get you under the blankets. You're frozen, dude.” His hands were resting on Dean's head, fingers tenderly running through his damp hair.</p>
<p>Getting under the blankets meant letting go, but Dean made himself pull away to move the blankets and sheets aside. He slid in slowly, suddenly feeling drained of all energy, and let his eyes drift shut.</p>
<p>He could hear a distant sound, like something hitting the floor softly, then heard it again. Then nothing, at least until the sheets rustled and the very obvious weight of someone else was felt on the bed. Dean opened his eyes again.</p>
<p>Sam was seated on the side of the bed, toeing and moving his shoes away. He scooted backwards until he reached Dean, pulled his legs in and tucked them into the blankets. The blankets and sheets were pulled up and over them, until even their heads were covered.</p>
<p>Dean didn't even have to reach. Sam turned to face him and smiled, wrapping an arm around Dean. Dean sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head forward to rest against Sam's. “Thanks," he whispered.<em><br/>
</em></p>
<p>A moment later, then Sam's quiet response was heard. “Go to sleep, Dean.”</p>
<p>This was the way it was supposed to be.</p>
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